Tangerine Skies
by thatoneguynobodyknows
Summary: It shocked the world when, in 1774, America lost the bloody revolutionary war again England, but out of all the countries, it really shook Matthew to the core. England hides America away from him for centuries, but when he finally gets to see his brother once again, he's shocked to see the other is a bit too much like he remembered him. Rated T because I'm not careful.
1. Chapter 1

"..."

A young man, looking to be around the age of 19 sat in his home, staring at the telephone on the side table in front of him for what has felt like, (and very well may have been) hours now.

The light haired Canadian was none other than Matthew Williams.

He stares at the phone with such intensity, it was surprising the device didn't burst into flames. He was seriously contemplating making a phone call that he's desperately been wanting to make for hundreds of years now, but he wasn't sure if even after all this time, if he has worked up the gut to go through with it.

Matthew sighed quietly, and reached over, placing his hand on top of the phone...and them took it away, holding his hand to his chest nervously.

...h...he couldn't do it! He just couldn't. He wasn't willing to face the bone crushing disappoint that would wait on the other end of the line.

He took a step away, dragging his hands down his face with a groan. Ugh, he was stressing himself out over this so much, he was sure he felt a headache coming on.

"Ugh...I already know the answer, so why would I even bother...?" Matthew mumbled to himself in the empty room.

"But, it also couldn't hurt to try, right...? I mean the worst he can do is say no, right?"

He fell silent after that,

"..."

He wasn't sure if he could except no as an answer.

Finally, after much debating, and convincing himself, Matthew picked up the telephone, hesitantly punched in the phone number, and held it to his ear, feeling his heart race as it rang. No going back now! ...somewhere in his head, he was hoping he wouldn't pick up.

His hopes were crushed to dust when the ringing was cut off, and a heavily accented voice answered on the other end.

"Hello?"

"...ah..." The Canadian tried to say something, but only a squeak came out. He rehearsed what he would say to the Englishmen a thousand times in his head, but now his mind was blank, and his mouth full of cotton.

"Hello?" The other repeated, sounding more confused this time around.

"..."

"...Canada? Canada, is that you?"

"...yes..." Was his mousy answer.

"Ah, so it is you and not some foolish prank call. What do you need, lad?" England replied smoothly, in a level, patient voice.

"I..." He paused, taking a deep breath through his nose. "I just felt like talking was all...with you, I meant."

He cringed at his awkward reply, having hoped that when he finally talked to England, it would be full of courage and confidence, but for some reason, he felt so unsure of himself.

"...very well. But it will have to be quick. I have things to do, as I'm sure you know. I'm a busy man."

"Y-yes, of course..."

",.."

"..."

If he listened closely, he could hear the Brit sigh quietly, and lean back in his chair as he waiting on Matthew.

"...so..." Matthew began. "My birthday is tomorrow..."

"I know why you decided to call me, Matthew."

He froze, the hand holding the phone nearly dropping it to the floor. The way the other called him by his human name, dropping any formalities, it made him feel more nervous, less like an adult...it reminded him that he was talking to his former caretaker.

"...uhm..."

"Matthew, I know you better than you think."

"So...what's your answer?"

"...I don't think it's a good idea."

He knew it. He knew that this would happen, and for some reason, he just couldn't help himself. Nervousness forgotten, he raised his voice into the phone.

"Why?! Why not? What do you think will happen if you just allow me to see my brother?" Matthew felt hurt, and angry and he felt like there was a huge something missing from his life since he betrayed his own twin.

"Matthew, I guarantee you meeting him will just make him confused. This meeting you're hoping for will not be what you're expecting." He promised in a level tone.

"I don't care! I don't care if he's not how I remembered, I just want to see him! You've hidden him from us for so long since the revolution! If I knew it was your intention to isolate Alfred from everyone else, I would have never sided with you against him!" There. He said it. He finally said it after thinking it and keeping it to himself for so long, and now that it's out there, he doesn't know how to follow that up, so he kept quiet, holding his breath as he waited for the others reply, hoping he wasn't too angry.

"..."

He heard him sigh, and he could envision him pinching the bridge of his nose in stress, massive brows furrowed.

"...alright, fine."

Matthew almost didn't believe it.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Yes, yes, just don't make me regret this. Just let me decide a date and time, and I'll have the two of you meet up. But I did warn you Matthew. You can't blame me if this reunion isn't everything you were hoping for."

"No, I understand, I'll be alright. Thank you. Thank you so much, Arthur."

"England." He corrected him.

"Right."

He hung up the phone, and let out a breath,feeling something heavy lift off of him. After all these years... He'll be able to see his twin brother for the first time since the revolutionary war between America and Britain

Over 300 years ago, on a rainy day in America, came the end of the long and bloody war between two nations who used to get along so entirely well.

The ground was loose and muddy, stained with blood, and littered with bullets and bodies. After many lifes lost, after such a long and ferocious struggle, it was over...and it was obvious who had won.

A certain American sat kneeling in the mud, his normally bright golden locks soaking wet, dirtied with mud and sticking to his face. His blue eyes twitched in pain as he pressed his palm against the red blooming from his navy blue uniform. He stared up at his former caretaker who was staring down at him.

"England...you shot me..." The voice was completely stunned.

The man he was addressing, otherwise known as Arthur Kirkland narrowed his green eyes at him and pointed the musket at the others face so Alfred was staring down the barrel.

"You've already lost, Alfred. Your "army", if it can even be called that, has fallen, and you're still my colony. Stop now, and your punishment for this silly rebellion won't be so severe." The Englishmen promised bitterly, he stern, demeaning gaze never leaving the American.

"No..." The hurt teen breathed a shuttered breath, cold from the rain and blood loss. "Th...this can't be happening..."

He couldn't believe it. His shot at independence. At being a country. Lost.

The Brit grit his teeth and grabbed a fistful of Alfred's hair, yanking upward. "Stand up!"

The other sloppily tried to comply, to try and stand on shaking legs, letting out a small cry of pain at the other yanking him around harshly.

"Arthur please!" He finally cracked, looking up at the others who's fist was gnarled in his hair. "You have to let me go! I need to be free, dammit!"

"IS THIS WHAT YOU NEED?!" The Brit hollered, forcefully twisting the American to look at the bloodied battleground in front of him. "Look at what you've done, Alfred. Your little hissy fit has cost the lives of your people. If anything, you have only proved that you need me more than ever. Because face it, /America/, you tried and you failed. If you would have just done as I said, listened like a good little colony, none of this would have ever happened!"

Even with the heavy rain soaking everything it could touch, it was still obvious that the American had begun crying.

"You still need me, America. And you know something? You probably always will." Arthur released Alfred, letting the other crumple to the muddy ground in defeat.

"Come. There are consequences to be faced." With a single gesture of his hand, two red coated solders had him by both arms, and yanked him from ground harshly, leading the broken man away.

Alfred cringed, and struggled, not wanting to face this reality. He could have never imagined it would turn out this way.

"No! Let me go! I won't go back!" He cried out. He tasted freedom and it was slipping away from him in an instant. "Arthur, let me go!"

His cries were ignored, and though he was normally as strong as 10 men, with his body injured, and his land in ruins, he was simply to weak to break free.

The Americans tear streaked face disappeared into a carriage that Arthur had waiting. Even in war, he would never travel in anything less than the most comfortably transportation.

Somewhere not to far off on the battle field stood an almost identical blonde in a red uniform, musket in hand, staring at the spot where the scene had just taken place. He had watched Alfred get taken away and for some reason he couldn't help but think he just assisted Arthur in something terrible.

He had no idea that that would be the last time anyone would see Alfred for a very long time.

After assisting Arthur in fighting against the Americans during the revolutionary war, he was cast aside and forgotten about again by the Brit. Sure, the thick browed blonde insisted that he was grateful, couldn't have done it without him, and what not, but the elder made no attempt to act thankful afterwards. He went back to ignoring the Canadian just as he always had, and only spoke to him when Matthew was the one to initiate conversation. And even then, he only ever replied if he actually heard him. His voice was soft as ever.

He had attempted to see Alfred again many times after the war. Right after his defeat, years after the event where he was positive Alfred had already forgiven and forgotten, on Alfred's birthday, on his birthday, during Christmas, on weekends when he had nothing to do. But every time he attempted, Arthur denied him access to his brother, and turned him away, not budging no matter how much Matthew had begged.

He wasn't the only one either. Other countries were interested in seeing America after his defeat, if only a select few. Alfred had gotten to attend a few world meetings before his defeat. He was so determined to prove that he would become a good country...a friendship between Japan and America blossomed quickly, and as for Italy? Well, the country thought everybody was his friend. During his absence, Gilbert, Kiku, Feliciano, Francis, along with a few other curious countries went off in search of the American. Sometimes, other countries would go just to support the ones who truly missed Alfred. Germany would tag along with Gilbert, Feliciano, or Kiku. Sometimes Yao would come along with Kiku to try and convince Arthur to see things their way, like a stubborn guardian.

Despite everything, Arthur denied anyone entry into his home, to Alfred's old home, no one even got a chance to catch a glimpse of the nation, and sometimes Matthew worried that his brother wasn't even there. He worried that Arthur might have done something truly awful to him. What if he had Alfred tied up somewhere where he wouldn't be able to cause England anymore trouble? What if he decided to just bury Alfred alive? He was a nation, so he couldn't die of suffocation, but the constant burning I'm his lungs for air would eventually drive him to madness. What if he somehow truly broke the strong willed brother of his, and Alfred just sat in bed all day with dead eyes?

He scared himself a lot, thinking like that.

Time had went on without Alfred in his life. England's crazy reign as empire died out. Plenty of his colony's grew up and became nations that didn't need him anymore. Even America, in a way. Without the personification. The American people, after many years, and making many exceptions so they got the short end of the stick, they finally got their motherland to agree to let them become a country as well. With extremely close ties to England, of course.

But even after Alfred finally got what he had wanted 300 years ago, the personification didn't appear. He never showed at the world meetings, and England promised he'd handle anything that involved American affairs. Arthur insisted that Alfred still lived with him, healthy and happy, and of course the others had their suspicions, but nobody was ever able to check out the Brits home to see if it was true. A large iron gate enveloped the house, (like a cage, Matthew thought) and it was always locked. If one was able to get over the gate, one of the many security cameras would alert England immediately that there was an intruder, and he'd contact the authorities, having any trespassers arrested on the spot. He knows. Matthew has tried before.

After all this time of keeping Alfred so isolated from everything, hearing that he was finally allowed to see the American, it was almost unbelievable.

He wondered what made Arthur finally change his mind?


	2. Chapter 2

It was several days later when Matthew got a call from England, telling him all the details of how this little get together would go, and there were oh so many detail.

First off, the number one rule England expressed was that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone about this. He didn't want to be crowded by curious or concerned nations, was his excuse. He also made very clear that Matthew wasn't to overstay his welcome. He was to be there for a couple hours, and leave when Arthur says so, no excuses.

Another rule, which was pretty obvious, was that he wasn't to bring anyone along. Just him.

He wasn't allowed to take pictures of Alfred because he didn't trust him to keep them to himself.

When he spoke to Alfred, he was to be gentle, so not to panic him (he wonders what England meant by all this). He didn't want Alfred to get confused and distraught...did he always treat Alfred like he was so fragile?

After making sure that Matthew was well aware of all the rules he was to strictly follow, he gave Matthew the time. The following Saturday, sometime during the afternoon, he was allowed to come over, and join Alfred and he for lunch. It suddenly became clear to Matthew that Arthur didn't intend to leave the two alone. Then, after lunch is over, depending how things go, he might stay a while longer, or be ushered out of the British home as quickly as he came. He couldn't tell yet.

It was already not what he was hoping for, but, a meeting with his brother was a meeting none the less, even if Arthur is breathing down his neck the entire time.

He went online and got a plane ticket for England as quickly as possible.

Matthew had trouble sleeping. The anticipation and worry ate at him as the day neared closer and closer. He was excited but he couldn't help but feel dread and panic pool into his stomach.

He was lucky enough to be able to take a nap on the plane ride there so he wasn't totally exhausted.

Matthew stepped off the plane, and hailed a transport to Arthur's house, an address he only knew too well.

The house looked the same ever. Tall, old fashioned in an elegant way, and that huge dark fence that seemed to cage the whole place in. He hasn't seen the inside of the house in years. He expected it to be kinda bland on the inside. Old fashioned and simple but I'm a pleasant way. Just like Arthur. He bet it smelled like the pages of a new book along with the sent of slightly charred food. He could only guess.

After getting dropped off at the almost intimidating home he was forced to stand outside of the gate as he waited on Arthur to greet him.

'Psh...some gentlemen...making his guest wait..." He thought to himself as he pulled out his cell to call Arthur and tell him he was here (waiting on him). He never got the chance to however, when he noticed the front door open and a familiar blonde head poke out, and to his almost disappointment, furry brows. If it had been Alfred, however, well, Matthew just may have fainted.

The Brit walked over to the large gate separating them, not bothering to greet him with a smile or a wave.

"Hello, Matthew. I trust you did as I asked and didn't bring anyone along with you?" He peered around with emerald eyes, as if he half expected someone to be hiding around the corner, waiting for their chance to slip past him. A bit paranoid if you asked Matthew.

"No...no, it's just me. Here to see my brother. I...I'm still going to see him today, right?" He asked a little cautiously, not liking how Arthur was acting.

The Brit peered around a bit more, and though hesitant, his eyes eventually locked with Matthew's and he nodded.

"Yes, that is why you're here after all. Well? Come in." He spoke as he punched a code into the keypad on the other side of the gate. Ahh, Arthur upgraded from the good old key and lock, huh? About time he got with the technology. The dark gate fell open with a creak, and once he stepped inside, Arthur closed it behind him, and he could hear it lock automatically.

Looks like the Englishman never let his guard down. It made Matthew more and more nervous to discover what he was hiding.

The wall up the drive to the house felt like it took forever, with dead silence between them, Matthew too nervous to try and say something, and Arthur simply choosing not to.

Once the almost agonizingly long feeling trip up to the home, Matthew stepped inside and it was just as he expected. Old fashions, in an oddly elegant way, and the whole place kind smelled like old man. Like walking into a grandparents house(not like he ever had a grandparent to compare to though).

He peered around, feeling too awkward to move any further without Arthur. There that familiar, uncomfortable feeling , the same one a person would get when visiting a persons house for the first time. You're nervous, don't want to make yourself too at home, too comfortable. And that's how Matthew felt.

Arthur gestured for him to follow however, and they made their way to a living room area with outdated furniture and no television to watch. But Matthew didn't complain. He sat on the green couch a bit stiffly and waited as there was a few seconds if silence between them that felt like an eternity.

Finally, Arthur shattered it, crossing his hands over his chest and shaking his head. "Where is that brat?" He mumbled to himself, sounding much like a disapproving parent. "I know he knows I'm waiting on him." He huffed, before cupping a hand over his mouth and hollering Alfred's name. The sudden loudness made Matthew twitch.

There was a pause, and then nothing. So Arthur tried again.

"Alfred Faeyrn Jones! Get in here!" He called with more of that parental authority in his voice.

Funny. Matthew could have sworn the F in Alfred's name stranded for Franklin (though Alfred used to tell anyone it stood for freedom). He wondered if Arthur made him change it.

Finally, there was the sound of soft footsteps coming down the stairs and Matthew held his breath, anticipation building up in him, making it hard to breath, making his shoulders tense.

This was it, wasn't it?

This was finally when he get to see Alfred after all these years. He wondered if he was well fed. He wondered if he still wore a bomber jacket. He wondered if his cowlick was still stubbornly sticking out from his bangs. He wondered if his eyesight was still poor. Did he wear glasses now? All these questions were unnecessary however, because Alfred was coming...

He held his breath.

A small child, looking not much older than six or seven meekly made his was down the stairs, peeking over at the two. His eyes were bright blue like the sky on a summer day, and his hair was a shining golden yellow. He was clad in a /very/ old fashioned white gown, with a red ribbon tied in a now around his neck.

He peered over at Matthew and the. Quickly skittered behind Arthur's legs, as if trying to hide from his line of vision.

"Now, now, Alfred. Canada here was very excited to meet you." He gestured over to Matthew with a wave of his hand. "So we're going to be /polite/, and say hello, aren't we?"

The small boy seemed hesitant, before peeking around Arthur and sending the other a meek smile.

"Hello, Canada. I'm America." He spoke in a thick American accent.

Matthew fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

Tangerine Skies 3

Matthew awoke slowly, feeling oddly uncomfortable, and a dull ache in the back of his head. The Canadian peered open tired lavender eyes and immediately noticed that his glasses were no longer on his face.

He finally began to wake up, gaining his bearings as he pushed himself up on the couch he was laying on. Even with the vaguely blurry surroundings, he could definitely tell that this wasn't home. No, it lacked the distinct maple smell.

"That was quite dramatic of you." A British accent piped up, startling Matthew.

Matthew squinted and suddenly, his glasses were slipped back into his face, and his vision adjusted, so he could see a rather impatient looking Arthur sitting across from him in an arm chair, a cup of tea in his hand...how long has been out? And why was he here again?

"If I knew you were going to be so shocked that you'd faint, I would have never allowed you over. You very much startled poor Alfred."

It suddenly came back to him, about the arrange meeting with Arthur, arriving to his home in secret for the first time in decades, seeing Alfred...

That young child with bright blue eyes, standing no taller than up to his knees...

He almost wanted to play it off as some kind of cruel joke, maybe Arthur found an identical child to play some kind if prank on him, but, Alfred was his brother. And a personification on top of that, a country... The connection between them was real, there was no way Arthur could have faked something like that.

Alfred was alive and well...and no older than a young colony...

"...h...how?" Was all Matthew managed.

Arthur paused, staring at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh, placing the cup of cooling tea aside on a nearby side table.

"Us personifications...we're strange, aren't we? Immortal...strongly affected by our people, what happens to our land affects us and vice versa...but then there's so many mysteries about us, things that we don't even know..."

Matthew remained silent, staring at Arthur.

"You see, back when I first gained control of America as a colony, while he remained in my care, I realized that he aged very rapidly for a country when I disappeared for long periods of time. You understand though, don't you? I was dealing with so many things as an empire."

Matthew didn't respond.

"Well..." Arthur sighed. "It was my fault, the poor lad, I neglected him so much that he had to grow up quickly, to learn how to take care of himself, his country. It was my fault, I forced him to grow up and in response, he thought he was ready to go off on his own without me. Luckily I was able to stop him before he did anything dangerous or stupid, and, because of the penalties tacked onto his country, he receded quite a bit. Even when he went to war with me, he was still a young lad, just a teenager after all, so he was nothing but a child by the time I was through with him. And I've been taking perfect care of him ever since, no need for him to grow up fast like the first time around. It's perfectly normal, I figure, so there's no reason for you to look so horrified." Arthur finished, folding his hands into his lap, leaning against his seat and stared at Matthew.

Matthew listened to his explains room, baffled and confused, his face twisting into an appalled frown.

"There...is nothing normal about that, Arthur!"

Arthur arched a brow at Matthew, demeanor changing to something a little bit darker.

"Matthew, I have invited you to my home, granted you the permission to see your brother, and you've successfully made a scene, startled Alfred, and now your yelling at me? Give me a reason why I shouldn't cut our plans short and send you back to Canada right now." Arthur's tone turned into something more warning and Matthew's eyes widened at the thought of loosing this chance to see his twin. Of course his mind was still spinning at the fact that a 300 year old country still looks like that of a child, but it was still Alfred...even if he didn't remember him. He needed to make sure that he was okay, that Arthur was treating him well, that he wasn't being manipulated or the like, he needed to take this chance to protect his brother...to make up for hurting him all those years ago.

"A...Arthur, please...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess this up so badly." Matthew decided to zip it for now. That seemed like the best option. "I was just so startled and confused, you have to forgive me for freaking out. I'll stop, okay? I'll calm down. After all, I still have to apologize to Alfred, and let him know I'm okay, right? Please, Arthur, please don't send me away. You can't tell me that I've come here for nothing..."

With that said, Arthur fell silent, looking Matthew up and down with calculating emerald eyes, worry itching it's way up the back of the Canadians neck. He wasn't going to be kicked out already, was he? He didn't ever get to see his brother for 10 seconds!

"Lunch." Arthur piped up. "You can stay for lunch, and then you have to leave immediately."

A wave of relief crashed over Matthew at that. "Thank you, Arth-"

"Ah-ah!" The Brit stopped him. "You are not just to leave my home but my country as well, do you understand?"

Matthew frowned a bit, swallowing thickly. "...I-I understand..." He really shouldn't be surprised by the Britons reaction, considering how stiff he was about just inviting him over. One more slip up, and Matthew was sure he'd be kicked out before he can even say 'Eh?'.

"So...can I see Alfred?" He asked cautiously, slowly.

Arthur was silent for a moment, not even bothering to look at Matthew as he thought. "...Well, I suppose that's what you came here for... He's up in his room. It's upstairs, the large door on the right. You'll know it when you see it. Alfred should be in there playing right now."

Matthew nodded and went to stand, but before he could even do that, Arthur had interrupted him yet again.

"Matthew." He called out, causing the others lavender eyes snap in his direction. "You do know what's appropriate to tell him, and what's not, correct?" The other arched a bushy brow. Matthew stared at him for a moment, having to think about what he meant. He supposed he wouldn't talk to Alfred about anything he wouldn't say to a normal child that is about 4 or 5... But then...he could already assume that the Brit didn't want to give Alfred any reminders about the revolution, the failure that landed him back into Arthur's care. Alfred didn't seem to remember that...hell, Alfred didn't even remember his own twin brother. What did he remember?

After staring dumbly for a moment or so, Matthew finally nodded his head shakily, promising he wouldn't say anything he shouldn't. With that said and done, Arthur met Matthew's eyes for a moment, searching for any sign of a lie, and then turned on his heals, heading into the kitchen to prepare some kind of charred lunch for the three of them, leaving Matthew behind in the living room.

Matthew sat there for a couple minutes, trying to inwardly prepared himself for what he was going to face, still taking all of this in. He was going to have to put on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay when this was all so wrong and totally not what he was hoping for. He stood before remembering that his time was limited, and he sent one glance towards the kitchen before ushering upstairs at a fast pace.

He took down the hall, and stood in front of what he assumed was Alfred's room. Two white double doors sat in front of him, pristine as if just painted, but the worn areas along the hinges and between the two doors suggested that they were older than they looked.

The Canadian tested his guess by wrapping his knuckles against the door softly. After waiting a moment and hearing nothing, he tried a second time.

"Al-America? Are you in there?"

"Don't come in!" A high voice responded back this time.

Matthew arched a brow in confusion and leaned against the door, placing a hand on one of the knobs, but didn't open it.

"...why not?"

"Because you don't like me..."

The voice said again, a bit mousier, filled to the brim with rejection and hurt. He must have really startled him.

Matthew prevented himself from saying Alfred by his name. It was difficult but it felt necessary.

"America...I do like you. I'm sorry I startled you...but I came from my own country just to come and visit you. I was just so excited, that I did something silly and fell over...I really would like to see you. So...can I come in?" Matthew spoke gently, trying his best to convince and coax, which he was pretty good at. But he hasn't spoken to a child in a while, not like this anyways.

A silence followed, and Matthew kept his ear pressed against the door, squinting, only hearing a soft shuffling around.

"...okay. You can come in." He finally heard.

Letting out a breath of relief, and finally, pushed open the doors.

The room was pretty large for a child's bedroom, but not intimidatingly so. A large bed pushed against the wall sat, taking up the majority of the space in the room, the blankets tucked nearly against each other, bed already made. A large window sat against the wall, an old fashion styled one that would open like a door, but he doubted Alfred could reach the knobs. Translucent curtains covered the window, but let natural light stream in and illuminate the room. A simple dresser was pressed against the wall, a lamp and a few children's toys sitting on top of it, wooden toy soldiers and paper scribbled on with crayon sat about the floor, as if just left there and forgotten, like any young child would do, but immediately, Matthew noticed how the room lacked color and life. It lacked personality and life, and the room was dull in that aspect. Too pure and unblemished. Matthew also noticed a lack of Alfred.

With a befuddled look on his face, Matthew gazed around the room, because he was 100% positive he heard his brothers voice come from inside here. Finally, his gaze landed on a suspicious lump on the bed, huddled under soft covers.

A small smile somehow managed to work it's way onto his lips, and Matthew walked into the bedroom, carefully avoiding stepping on anyone that lay about on the floor.

"America? Oh, America? Now where could he be?" He blatantly mocked confusion, looking around the room as if he had no clue where the small nation was. His smile widened when he heard a soft giggle.

Matthew let out a defeated sigh and wandered over to the bed. "Guess America just isn't here. Oh,well." He said right before he sat on top of the mysterious lump hiding under the covers. Alfred let out a squeal followed by a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

"Hey! You're squishing me!" Alfred's tiny voice came, and Matthew chuckled, and stood up, turning around to see Alfred throw to covers off his head, smiling at Matthew.

"America! There you are! I was wondering where you were hiding." The Canadian teased the little one. Ahh, he missed this. Seeing his brother, smiling and full of life. He missed this so much.

"You knew where I was, and sat on me anyways!" Alfred accused with a giggle.

"Who, me?" Children were so cute.

Alfred shuffled off of the bed which looked a bit to big for a child his size, as if he had to climb it just to get to bed at night.

"You're funny. I like you." Alfred spoke, not looking at Matthew as he searched the floor for toys. "You wanna play soldiers with me?" The American asked as he picked up a small, wooden you off the floor, that looked like a British soldier. He assumed the you was quite old, the paint was peeling in places.

Matthew paused, staying in his spot. "You don't want to talk?"

Alfred looked over at Matthew, confusion masking his face. "Talk about what?"

Matthew frowned a bit. He had waited so long just to see his brother, and he wanted to know what he missed, he wanted to know the life that his brother lived without him, he wanted to apologize for not taking his side all those years ago, and here Alfred was, right there in front of, and be couldn't speak about any of this, because that wasn't really his brother. In a way, if course he was, but this wasn't the young man he had grown up with. This wasn't his brother he fought against in war. This was just a child. He was still America, still his brother, he was inexperienced and out of the loop and not the independent nation he thought he was going to meet. And it hurt. Because now, he was loosing hope that he would ever meet that America again.

"Well...I'd like to know more about you." Matthew started gently. "What do you like to do?"

Alfred fell silent himself, and looked at the toy in his hand, poking the little bayonet that toy was holding with the tip of his finger. "Uhmm...I like to draw. And watch t.v. when Iggy let's me."

Matthew cringed at the use of that old nickname.

"But he says 'it rots my mind'. I think he just doesn't like cartoons."

Matthew was aware that he was afraid of what Alfred would find on the the t.v., the news, documentaries on their countries.

Blue eyes gazed up toward the ceiling, thoughtful.

"Oh! i like adventuring, too!" The young blonde suddenly chirped.

"Adventuring?" Matthew questioned.

"Mhm! When I get to go outside and walk around wherever I want, and I get too see new things-well, I can't really go that far, England says he's afraid I'll get lost..." The American huffed, blowing his hair out of his face.

Yeah, I bet he's afraid of him getting lost, the Canadian though bitterly. But but not afraid for Alfred, no, the young nation survived in the harsh plains of America on his own for years, with wild animals, and only pure instinct to lead him to his next meal, next place to sleep, Arthur wasn't afraid for Alfred, but for himself. The fear of him loosing the American would be too much.

The child was silent for a moment, and then turned his doe eyes to settle on his brother. He cocked his head to the side and bright locks of hair fell into his face. "What do you like to do?"

Matthew blinked, a bit surprised as his own question was turned on him, but a soft smile spread across his lips.

"Well..." He started. "I like to cook." And by that, he mostly meant pancakes. "And I like to play hockey. Do you know what hockey is, America?" He questioned gently.

There was another bout of silence as Alfred nodded his head, and suddenly responded with, "Please, maybe don't call me America...?" He said a bit unsurely. This rather stunned Matthew. He soon responded with a hesitant nod of his own. "...you would rather me call you Alfred?" The name tasted so familiar on his tongue, yet so new in a strange way. Saying it to his brother was a lot different than just saying it to himself.

The young nations face seemed to brighten a bit, and he sent a sweet smile Matthew's way, one that could melt the iciest of hearts.

"Yeah. You calling me America, it's just weird!" He punctuated with a giggle, most likely at how 'weird' it was.

That was...huh. It was more bizarre for two nations who are merely acquaintances to greet each other by their first name. It was just an unspoken rule, it was informal and rude. But Alfred wanted to be called Alfred. Matthew was sure, as gentlemanly and ridged as England was, he would have already made very sure that Alfred had learned these manners ages ago, but still, he went against them...? Could it be that perhaps he remembers that they are not actually just meeting? He'd have to wait a while before he could be sure.

"Alright...you can call me Matthew, then."

Alfred's smile widened.

The next half hour had consisted of small talk between the two, the age gape preventing any kind of deep conversation, and Matthew humored Alfred by playing soldiers with the wooden toys the American seemed so incredibly fond of.

Matthews army was in the middle of experiencing the wrath of the plastic dinosaur that Alfred decided to allow to join the game when Arthur opened the door to the child's room, causing Alfred to glance over and Matthew to freeze.

The Brit smiled at Alfred who smiled back sweetly. "Are you two getting along in here?" The Brit asked with a teasing underline in his voice. Who knew Arthur could behave so kindly and gently? If Matthew thought back, he could recall a time when he saw that smile on the Brits face frequently, back when he was a colony under the others roof, never towards him, always towards Alfred...

Matthew felt an uncomfortable cold rock settled in his chest.

"Mhm! Is lunch ready?" The young one asked, ignorant of the tension in the room between the two older men.

"Yes, the food is ready. Won't you join us, Matthew?" Arthur's smile went from gentle and endearing to sharp and fake.


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew wasn't quite sure what he was looking at here.

The Canadian pushed around the black lump of coal that had been dropped on his plate with his fork, suddenly loosing his appetite...he had forgotten how bad a cook Arthur was...Matthew began to recall those years he spent under England's rule and he had to choke down the burnt shit that Arthur called food, or just go hungry.

A bit sheepishly, lavender eyes snuck a glance at the smaller form sitting at the other side of the table. Of course, Alfred was scarfing down the food without a care in the world, and all the while, and appreciative smile on his face. Well...Alfred always did have a stomach of steal...and dead taste buds, probably.

Matthew noticed the way Arthur would beam proudly as Alfred enjoyed the home cooked meal, and he wondered if Arthur was always this happy when Alfred enjoyed his cooking, or if Arthur was just showing off for the company and inwardly gloating as he showed Matthew how happy Alfred was with him.

Suddenly, Arthur's green eyes landed on Matthew and they were no longer soft and kind, beaming with adoration, but now sharp, icy, and challenging. Matthew quickly glanced away, and shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth, forcing himself not cringe even when he was sure his tongue was about to punch him for making this mistake.

Matthew cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "It's..." He covered up a gag with a cough. "It's good. Thanks for fixing lunch, England." He spoke, refusing to look at the older nation.

England smiled blandly and nodded. "It was nice of you to join us." Somehow, Matthew wasn't sure if he really felt that way. "I know America was a excited to meet you, after all." Of course he would be. How many people does Alfred get the chance to interact with other than Arthur. The poor kids probably socially starved. Mathew glanced over at the small lad, who beamed at Matthew with a bright, white smile. "Mhm! I love it when we have company over!" Alfred agreed cheerfully, ignorant to awkwardness in the air.

"So...uh..." Matthew attempted to strike up a conversation, something to listen to other than forks scraping against plates, but he could feel Arthur's eyes burning holes into the side of his head, daring him to try and utter anything he wouldn't approve of. Matthew decided to tread around this carefully, and inwardly wished that he had decided to ask Alfred more questions when he had the chance.

"Uh...America," he was to afraid to call the boy by his name, not in front of Arthur. "It seems like England's been taking good care of you. You like it here?" He tried but by the way Arthur cleared his throat when he pressed his tea cup to his lips told him that he was very close to crossing the line with that prying inquiry.

Alfred nodded, not even bothering to look up from his food as he shoveled another spoonful of charred food into his mouth. "Yeah...I mean...it kinda rains a lot here, but I like it at Iggy's house." He spoke, spewing bits of chewed food as he spoke.

Arthur placed his cup onto the table harshly, catching Alfred's attention, and sent the younger a stern stare. "Alfred, you know better than to speak with your mouth full." Arthur said as he picked up a cloth napkin from the table and wiped at Alfred's mouth gently like any parent would do. Matthew cringed.

Alfred mumbled an apology around the dotting cloth, and once it was pulled away, he went back to his food, eating slower this time. The Alfred looked up from his plate and stared at Matthew with curious, wide eyes.

"So what's Canada like, Mattie?"

Oh dear.

Now this was going to be tricky to answer. What was he supposed to say? What was he not supposed to say? He glanced over at Arthur who was staring at him with an arched brow, perhaps because Alfred had called him by his first name or maybe he was simply waiting for Matthew's reply.

When Matthew didn't say anything, Arthur let out a silent sigh. "Come now, Canada, there must be something you'd like to tell young America here about your country."

Matthew felt uncomfortable. Like he was being pulled in two directions. He didn't know if a single sentence could have him booted out of here before he could even finish choking down his lunch.

He pondered and decided to just skim the surface.

"Well...in most places in Canada, it gets very, very cold. But it's a good kind of cold. I don't mind it and the snow is beautiful." He smiled softly as Alfred leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, giving Matthew his complete and undivided attention.

"And the cold can be really fun, too!" He grew more excited as Alfred looked more interested and fascinated. "You can ice skate, and play hockey, or sled in the snow. There's snow ball fights and building snowmen, and when you get too cold, you can always go inside and warm up by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and some comfort food. Do you know what poutine is, Alfred? It's really yummy."

Alfred's blue eyes filled with wonder. "No, but that sounds really fun! I wanna go there!"

"You should! Canada is a really big county with lots of land, and it's right next to America too! I think you would like visiting a lot."

As the two talked, they both failed to notice the jealous look on Arthur's face.

"It doesn't snow a lot here, but when it does, it's a lot of fun!" Alfred grinned, forgetting about his food entirely to talk with Matthew.

"In Canada, it snows so much, you'd disappear in it."

Alfred laughed.

"Canada, do you not like your food?" Arthur suddenly cut in. Matthew blinked, a bit stunned by the sudden question.

"U-uhm...no, it's fine-..." He lied slowly, looked back at his half finished plate.

"Oh, that's good! I was a bit worried for a moment there. After all, you've hardly touched it." Arthur smiled pleasantly, folding is hands on the table in front of him.

That smile was like ice cold water being dumped down the back of his shirt. The underline threat and possessive nature that tried to shield itself behind the smug act of a gentlemen...it put Matthew understandably on edge.

"Oh...I guess I'm just a slow eater, I suppose..." Matthew attempted to smile back sheepishly.

"Well, lunch time is nearly over, so..."

Ah. That was a very clear message Arthur was trying to send him there...he wanted Matthew to leave. Soon, too.

But how could he? After seeing his brother in such a vulnerable condition? After seeing his own brother for the first time in years and years and years? How could Arthur expect him to turn around and go home? How long was he supposed to pretend like all this was okay?

"...May I use your bathroom?" Matthew suddenly blurted. There was a pause an once he got a nod from Arthur he dropped his fork and headed down the hallway, slamming the restroom door shut behind him as he entered it. He felt a bit sick and he wasn't sure if it was because of the situation he was watching in front of him or the inedible food he was attempting to choke down. He leaned against the sink and let out a slow sigh. The Canadian pushed his round glasses to rest on top of his head and splashes some cool, refreshing water onto his face. He glanced at the mirror and frowned...he had been expecting Alfred to still look like him...just another thing to add to his disappointment. He wondered if he could even call Alfred his twin anymore? Probably not.

Matthew sighed and scrubbed at his eyes before pushing away from the sink and leaving the bathroom. When he had returned to the kitchen, his plate was gone. It wasn't like he wanted to finish off the charcoal tasting food, but now he no longer had and excuse to stay. Arthur was now at the sink, washing the dishes, and Alfred was no where in sight, most likely having gone to his room after Arthur decided to dismiss him. He stood their awkwardly for a moment, and after a bit of time had passed, Arthur glanced at the Canadian from over his shoulder, before going back to the chore.

"Oh. You're still here? Did you need something?" He asked casually, pretending he didn't know how much Matthew would have liked to stay.

"Well...can I at least say goodbye?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, goodbye."

"...I meant, say goodbye to America."

The Brit sighed dropped a plate into the water a bit harshly.

"Yes, you may. Just don't take all day about it."

Not wishing to linger around Arthur and the tense atmosphere he seemed so intent on radiating, he headed up the stairs. He went straight to Alfred's room, and found him there just like he expected he would. The young boy was sitting on the floor, hunched over a piece of paper, with a rainbow of crayons splayed out at his side. He was focused on scribbling on it with the red crayon that rest in his fist, so focused he hadn't even looked up when Matthew had walked in. Or maybe he just didn't hear him, Matthew has always been rather quiet, after all.

Matthew sighed silently through his nose and leaned against the doorway and watched as the kind colored away. He couldn't leave him like this. Not with Arthur, not again.

Alfred peered up with blue eyes, his gaze landing on Matthew. The American seemed a bit surprised for a moment, as if he was caught off guard by the others presence, but the shocked look on his face was soon brightened up with a gleeful smile.

"Matthew!" He chirped and Matthew recalled how much he missed that smile.

"Look! I drew you something!" He laughed and pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the paper he was drawing on, crumpling it a bit in the process, but he didn't see to mind. He scampered over to Matthew and held it out to the other proudly.

Matthew tried to smile and took the paper from his hand, looking it over with lavender eyes.

The paper was a bit messy and a mess of colors and blobs. Well. Alfred never was the best at drawing. However, he was able to tell what the other was trying to make. On the left was a poorly drawn Arthur, complete with large, furrowed eyebrows, looking rather grumpy as usual. In the middle, Alfred had obviously doodled a self portrait of himself smiling as usual, and at the right, Matthew. He stood drawn in red with a small smile in his face. He looked over the drawing and wanted to cry but instead smiled wearily at Alfred.

"It's great, Alfred. You're quite the artist." He lied and Alfred beamed bash fully, and giggled.

"Do you mind if I keep this?" He asked.

"Yeah! I made it for you, silly!"

"Oh. Thank you." He said, and folded up the drawing and tucked it away carefully into his pocket.

He then glanced back down at Alfred and the American stared back at him as if expecting him to say something. When he didn't, Alfred spoke up himself, swinging his arms at his sides much like a kid his age (or rather his appearance) would do.

"You wanna play soldiers again?" He asked hopefully and Matthew shook his head slowly. Alfred frowned, looking disappointed.

This was it. He would have to bid his brother fair well now. Of he was lucky, maybe he would get to see him again his next birthday, for an hour perhaps. He wondered of Alfred would still remember him after all that time. Alfred would probably be lonely with just Arthur to keep him company. He'd probably be bored stuck in this house all day. He'd probably be sad if he thought Matthew forgot about him. He opened his mouth, he had to leave, he had to tell Alfred he was going to go now.

"Alfred..."

"What's wrong, Matthew?" The other stared up at him with big, cornflower eyes.

"..." Goodbye, brother. "...Alfred, do you like ice cream?" Matthew blurted suddenly.

Alfred looked a bit taken aback before he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, who doesn't?" He chirped, a new smile on his face, a bit curious this time.

"How would you like to go out and get some ice cream with me?" Matthew found himself saying before he could stop himself.

"Would I?!" America seemed to happy by the idea. Arthur must never take him out to eat. However, Alfred's smiled faded a bit as a thought passed through his head. "Wait, is Iggy okay with that?"

Matthew paused, really wishing he hasn't asked that question.

"I thought we could surprise him, you know?" The explanation made no sense but the child wasn't going to question free junk food for long.

"Oooh!" He exclaimed as if he now understood. "Okay!"

What was he doing? Arthur was going to kill him. He was going to murder him and nobody would ever find his mangled corpse.

"C'mon." He said, holding out his hand to the American. A small hand found it's way to his own and he lead Alfred out of the room. He pressed his finger to his lips to hush him and Alfred grinned and giggled but was otherwise completely silent.

He tiptoed down the stairs and past the kitchen, peering in once to see Arthur still scrubbing gunk off the silverware that had been sitting in the sink. He made his way to the door and opened it slowly, cringing at ever squeak and creak. Finally, the door was open and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He would be home free now.

"Oh, Canada?" His world froze like ice and then shattered around him at the sound of a pleasant British voice addressing him.

"Oh, maple..." He mumbled. This was it. Goodbye cruel world.

There was silence for a moment, and he glanced over his shoulder, towards the kitchen, realizing Arthur hadn't even left his position at the sink. How did he notice? The sound of water from the sink still running was far too loud on his ears.

"Happy birthday, lad."

...

That was it. No angry screaming, no fist crashing against his back, nothing...

"Uhm...th...thank you." He muttered and walked out the door, Alfred's hand still curled around his own when he shut it behind him. He then scurried to his car, buckled Alfred in the back, and hopped into the front. He turned his key and was out of there in no time flat.

It wasn't until he was driving down the road, Alfred sitting in the back, staring out the window and kicking his tiny legs against the seat that it finally began to sink in, just what he had done.

Matthew wanted to faceplant against his steering wheel.

Oh god, he's become an kidnapped. Happy freakin' birthday to him indeed.


End file.
